


Cold

by CherryBoom



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Light Angst, nothing happens really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBoom/pseuds/CherryBoom
Summary: Rheitgeim, the Warrior of Light, reminisces after the death of Haurchefant.





	Cold

It seemed colder somehow.  
Ishgard was always cold. It had not been too long since she set foot on Ishgardian soil, but already Rhetigeim knew this. Snow was normal here, as frequent as the heat in Thanalan, or the salty breeze in La Noscea. She had grown used to it. After all, she had been raised aboard a ship. If she could get used to the stormy seas, then the cold couldn't possibly break her, so she thought. It wasn't that simple, but still, she adapted.  
Even so, she was especially cold right now.

The chill of the stone beneath her arms was familiar, just another thing she had adapted to. How many times had she leant on this wall like this, gazing out at the horizon? How many times had she stared out over the snowy peaks of Coerthas from this very spot? Artoirel had told her it was the best view of the land, and she had to agree. She had no desire to steal his place of respite, but she always felt calmer when gazing upon the horizon. Artoirel did not mind sharing his special spot with her, so they often stood in companionable silence, watching the world go by. Sometimes they spoke, about their respective duties, or the politics of Ishgard, or Emmanellain's latest blunder. Sometimes, she'd be alone.  
Today, she was not alone.

"There is much I never said to him. Much I wish I had."  
Artoirel's voice was low, tinged with sadness and regret, though never wavering. Rhetigeim wished she had his composure.  
Even so, she had already had her bouts of emotion. "He knew you loved him, my lord, as a brother should. He bore no ill to you, or any of the House."  
Artoirel made a brief, low sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. "Of course he didn't. He was not the type. Despite everything, he always saw the bright side."  
"That he did." Rhetigeim closed her eyes. "Even in his last moments."  
It was a small comfort that Rhetigeim had been there when Haurchefant died. Of course she wished it never happened. He had been her closest friend, in many ways her saviour, and she wanted to spend many long years at his side. Nevertheless, she did not know how she would have coped had she not been able to hold him one last time.  
Not that she dealt admirably with his murder. Tears did not come easily to her, yet the moment Haurchefant hit the ground, her eyes moistened. In the moments it took for her to fall to her knees beside him, they overflowed with tears. They didn't stop for hours - at least, it felt like hours. Time seemed to stand still after he was gone. Like it no long mattered. Even back at the manor, time just froze as she lay in her chambers, crying over the loss, replaying the scene in her head against her own wishes.

Till the end of her days, that image would haunt her, Rhetigeim knew. Haurchefant lying there, blood seeping from his mouth, paling, the light leaving his eyes. And all she could do was squeeze his hand in both of hers, and grant his final wish - a smile. Her heart was breaking, yet she managed to smile for him.  
It was just like him to think of her, even on his own deathbed.

A hand on her shoulder brought Rhetigeim back to the present. Artoirel was looking at her sympathetically. She briefly wondered if it hurt him knowing she had been closer to his brother than he ever was, but she dismissed such thoughts. Both Artoirel and Emmanellain were hurting too. And that was to say nothing of the pain Lord Fortemps held.  
"I know it hurts. You were like a sister to Haurchefant."  
A sister. Is that how it seemed? They must have been more discreet than she thought. A smile tugged at the corners of Rhetigeim's mouth. A sister indeed! If only they knew.  
More memories danced in her mind. Pleasant memories, though they still made her heart ache now. Memories of stolen kisses in front of the fire, lingering gazes across the table, flirtatious comments so subtle nobody noticed. Memories of a Coerthan bed chamber, of discarded armour, of clothing scattered across the floor. Moon kissed skin, soft whispers, caresses under warm sheets.  
A smile. A smile Rhetigeim had hoped to see forever.

It's not that their relationship was a secret. It just was not the time. There was a war to win, too many matters to resolve. They just enjoyed each other's company for the time being, and it was a great comfort to Rhetigeim after the traumatic experience in Ul'dah. Had he lived, she hoped their closeness would become public, given time. That was the impression Haurchefant gave. They never had the chance to truly discuss things. Perhaps a time would have come when she was a sister to Artoirel and Emmanellain, a daughter to Lord Edmont. She hoped they would have liked that. No doubt it would have been a scandal, a noble Ishgardian house accepting a glorified mercenary as more than a ward, but it could have worked. Haurchefant was no heir, and she had worked hard for Ishgard.  
But there was no way to ever know now. Haurchefant was killed, and Rhetigeim's heart shattered, along with her hopes for a future with the one she loved.

"Aye, something like that." Rhetigeim finally replied, suddenly aware she had been silent a touch too long. "We're all feeling his loss. But he wouldn't want us to mope."  
Artoirel inclined his head in agreement, a slight smile on his lips. "You are quite right, Ms Redd."  
Rhetigeim smiled back, straightening up. She pulled her coat around herself, feeling the chill. It really was exceptionally cold.  
"Even so, I miss him."  
"I know, Ms Redd. We all do."  
Ordinarily, Rhetigeim would promise vengeance. She had done as much already, declaring she would have the hearts of the men responsible. She had cursed the Heaven's Ward, cursed the Archbishop, made promises of a thousand deaths upon them all. She had sworn to the Navigator and the Fury that she would show no mercy.  
But now was not the time for anger. Now was for sorrow and reflection.

"It's getting colder."  
Artoirel looked at Rhetigeim, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he regarded her. "So it would seem."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the middle of the night and it's entirely useless but here you go anyway.


End file.
